Tuesday, July 6, 2010

Southerner's Outlook



You know the more I fish the more I think of fishing, the more
I dream about fishing the more I fish, the more I fish the more
it consumes me. ESPECIALLY when you do it with a long rod
baby…

What is it about the fly rod that turns some of us into uncom-
promising fish bums and fish heads??? THe rhythm? THe
beauty? The challenge? All of them? Maybe the lifestyle? Stomp
around a campfire in the mountains, beer and brats on a fall
line river, cold mornings throwing streamers for reluctant
trout, nicotine rushes to get you thru the night floats? Yeah
that must be it.

Why do we pursue fish with feathers and flash? Why do we flail
into our days with tiny tippets and bad back casts into, over,
and under trees, rocks, and cussing guides? Cuss like drunken
sailors when we snag something and can’t wait to do it all
again telling our wives how much fun we had while not bring-
ing anything home not even a picture. Maybe deep down we
are all masochistic. Maybe we have a screw loose. At least I am
sure that’s how my friends and family look at my travels and
pursuits…

My dreams consist not of beautiful beaches and women but salt
flats filled with fat redfish chasing mullet, 10lb browns crash-
ing top water flies, smallies leaping in the fall sunlight, large-
mouths busting a deer hair fly at dusk. Beautiful rivers cut into
the mountains with high canyon walls and limestone outcrop-
pings. Sunsets on the marsh. The scream of a good reel with a
good fish in the backing. The beauty of a bent rod.
Tattoos, nicotine, and unkempt hair are more common among
my fishing buddies than Phd’s, MD’s or God help us lawyers. A
few friends have spent more on rods than on cars. A few even
houses…

Personally I think it is a lifestyle. Not just a hobby. I had almost
forgotten how much I love the feel of a fly line laying out in front
of me. The sight of a popper landing under an over- hanging
branch. It has been a great year of rediscovery for me.

Man cannot reach perfection. I am a Presbyterian leaning, Scot-Irish,
and mountain (half of me anyway) bred fellow so I believe like
in the movie that “Man is a damn mess” but thru fly fishing we
can gain a little bit of perfection. The other half is just an anti-
establishment un-reconstructed confederate from Atlanta who
just does this to be different…

Maybe just maybe it’s the places, the people, the experience of
fly fishing that I love and chase. Trout do not live in ugly
places. Shoal Bass don’t either. In fact can you fish in an ugly
place? Or once we reach the water does everywhere become
beautiful?

In any case that’s my ramblings and thoughts for a night… A
week of a couple of good fishing trips. Only a few fish but a lot
of good companionship.

Can’t wait to do it all again.

______________________

Author: James Pressley

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